


Give and Take

by thistlesloth



Series: A New Take on Reality [2]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Hugs, M/M, seriously this boy deserves all the hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thistlesloth/pseuds/thistlesloth
Summary: Lucifer is learning to do both.
Relationships: Lancelot/Vane (Granblue Fantasy), Lucifer/Sandalphon (Granblue Fantasy)
Series: A New Take on Reality [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560691
Comments: 14
Kudos: 101





	Give and Take

**I.**

Djeeta’s only been at this skyfarer thing for a few years now, but she’s got a pretty good handle on it. She’s codified her mental list of truisms, she knows the rules and she plays by them - and whatever she can’t handle, Gran can. One thing still gets them both, though: how absolutely shattered most of their primal friends are, in one way or another. (Lucio is... a weird case. Doesn’t count.) Nearly all of them are touch-starved - and nearly all of them are also touch-averse. Djeeta and Gran could _strangle_ the astrals who made them, honestly - none of them deserved the suffering they’ve endured. 

Lucifer, she thinks, watching him standing with his wings protectively hooding Sandalphon as they lean on the railing, is no different; touch-starved and anxious, overprotective and self-abjuring. Sandalphon’s a little better, thanks to his years with the Grandcypher, and with Lucifer there the last of the jagged edges is finally rounding off. They’re good for each other. Doesn’t mean they don’t need some help, though, and it’s with that thought that she finally pounces, hopping over a coil of rope to bound up to the archangels and half-tackle them in a hug. Sandalphon grunts in complaint, but submits to it with a wry smile - Lucifer stumbles theatrically (as though he couldn’t ignore her weight, as strong as he is) and beams as he turns, shifts his wings to ensconce her in them along with Sandalphon, and pulls them both into his arms. He’s new to the captains’ tendency to leap in and hug their crewmembers - he doesn’t need to know that they save it mostly for the primals - but he’s taken to it quickly. And he gives _amazing_ hugs, tight but not too tight, gentle and loving and warm both metaphorically and literally. His wings always wind up involved too - they’re the most expressive part of him, once you know how to read them - and it’s honestly the safest feeling she can imagine. Sometimes she’s a little jealous (only a little) of Sandalphon and how he seems to permanently be tucked under Lucifer’s wings - but then, she thinks, they’ve spent so long apart; and then an entire year with not just distance but death between them. She’d be clingy too.

Lucifer gives her a little squeeze, and she squeezes back before she lets go and beams at him and at Sandalphon, who’s still tucked against his side. “How’re you two this morning?”

“Better before I nearly got rammed off the ship,” Sandalphon grumbles, but there’s amusement in his eyes. “What’s got you charging around this morning?”

“Ah, y’know, general tidying.” She waves her hand, laughing. “Couldn’t resist bothering you two, sorry.”

Lucifer’s expression goes serious. “You aren’t a bother, Djeeta.” He gently rests a hand on her head. “Please don’t be so flippant about yourself; your kindness is something to be cherished.”

Djeeta feels her cheeks heat, ducks her head, careful not to dislodge Lucifer’s hand. “...thanks, Lucifer.”

His smile is sunshiny - she’d swear he literally glows, sometimes, and this is one of the times. “You’re welcome, Djeeta.” He gives her head a little pat, looks to the smaller archangel who’s trying very hard not to look like he’s leaning into Lucifer’s side (and failing). “Sandalphon, do you think we could lend Djeeta a hand with the chores?”

“Of course we can,” he scoffs, and he’s blushing, and Djeeta loves these two idiots so much she can scarcely breathe, “singularity, just point us at what needs doing.”

She beams, and yanks them into another hug before she lets them loose, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Right, okay! So Noa was saying something about the rigging...”

**II &III.**

Gran’s been chasing after Lucio all morning, which he usually wouldn’t mind except that the actor’s distracted today, and not really being all that chatty. He’d almost say the guy seems worried, but he can’t be _certain_ \- Lucio seems like an open book, but Gran’s noticed he’s actually pretty sparing with the real information he gives out. Just like a performer, he supposes, to never really drop the act and be completely genuine.

He turns a corner and nearly runs straight into the man, who’s stopped in the middle of the hallway, tiny little wings quivering - reaches up and touches his back, just between them. “You okay?”

The angel startles, turns quickly, and there’s a flash of something almost guilty in his face before his usual bright smile smooths it over. “Of course!” Ruffles Gran’s hair. “Going over lines, is all. Cocoa on the upper deck? We haven’t done that yet today, even if it _is_ a mite later than usual.”

Gran squints up at him, then copies his smile, though he knows he’s not nearly so good at feigning innocence. “Yeah, sure, sounds good.”

Lucio beams. “I’ll meet you there, then.”  
And he practically bolts.

Gran grimaces, but heads for the stairs - Lucio was running towards the galley, and he’s usually pretty good about being the one making the drinks, so.

It’s a beautiful day on the upper deck; the magic-dampened wind is cool and crisp, the sun bright and warm. Gran tips his head back, closes his eyes, basks for a moment - feels something tickle his cheek and slaps it to his face. Soft, fluffy, a slightly scratchy quill - it’s a... feather?

The _flap-flap-flap_ of several pairs of wings drowns out the wind, then, and he looks up just as Lucio - no, no, Lucifer, Lucifer’s here now - banks around the nearest sail, descending in a tight spiral around the mast. He comes down nearly silently, light as the feather that Gran realizes abruptly he’s still got mashed against his face, and smiles one of those sunshine smiles at him, cheeks flushed with exertion. “Hello, Gran!”

Momentarily caught off-guard, Gran blurts, “weren’t you supposed to be resting?”

Lucifer’s wings rustle against his back. “It’s only a _bit_ of flying,” he temporizes, but the red in his face deepens with evident embarrassment, “I feel perfectly fine.”

Heels click against the deck behind Gran, then, and Sandalphon only sounds _slightly_ alarmed when he asks, “why wouldn’t you - are you alright? Do you need to rest?” A pause. “...Do I want to know what Gran’s doing with my feather?”

Gran stifles a chuckle, turns to face the other angel. “It fell on me,” he offers, “and, uh, didn’t Cagliostro say you were supposed to rest?”

Sandalphon blinks at him, then reaches out and plucks the plume from Gran’s awkward grip, tossing it to be swept away by the breeze. “It was just a bit of flying.” The captain absently wonders if he’s aware that he’s parroting Lucifer. He decides it’s not worth the argument to bring it up, and just grins.

“Don’t let her catch you, I guess. She’s a stickler.” He lets his hand drop to his side - turns to see Lucio hurrying up the stairs with a full tray and a growing grin. Three steps and he shoves the tray at Gran, who hurriedly snatches it, and launches himself at Lucifer with a cheer.

“Little brother!” Lucifer yelps as Lucio all but tackles him, staggers sidelong into the mast with a wheeze, but beams all the same as he hugs back. Sandalphon puffs up but deflates abruptly as Lucifer’s smile turns on him and reluctantly - absolutely reluctantly, Gran thinks to himself, forcing down laughter, of course reluctantly - lets Lucifer tug him in as well. He _does_ squirm a little when Lucio’s arm goes around him, but he actually puts up with it.

Gran sets the tray on the deck, and hugs the lot of them, because this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing - usually Sandalphon would’ve _at best_ squirmed away, or maybe punched Lucio by now. Instead, he’s squished between two nearly-identical white-haired archangels, and now one short, opportunistic captain.

Lucifer positively _glows_ as they all disentangle themselves. “Hello, Lucio.”

The actor lights up, turns and picks up the tray and waggles it - Gran realizes suddenly that there’s not just their two hot chocolate mugs on there, but a plate of cookies, a coffeepot, a sugar bowl, and a pair of Sandalphon’s dainty china cups as well, and is abruptly grateful he _didn’t_ drop it - bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. “Breaktime? Gran and I were just going to have our daily hot chocolate and chatter, and a little Vyrn told me you two had been hard at work, so I made you a pot of coffee as well.”

Sandalphon blinks, then glances up at Lucifer - Lucifer hums, meets his eye. “I think we’ve earned a break; we have, after all, ensured all the rigging is in good condition. What do you think, Sandalphon?”

The smaller archangel nods, and Gran’s startled to realize how absolutely _soft_ his expression is; he doesn’t look like the angry, feral gremlin who joined them two years gone at all. He looks _happy_ in a way Gran hadn’t realized he wasn’t until just now. It stings a little - Sandalphon never _told_ them - but it also feels wonderful, seeing his friend so purringly content.

Lucio grins at that, turns to lead the way towards the prow with Lucifer and Sandalphon close behind, and Gran lingers behind just briefly, savoring the moment. The three primals are all clearly comfortable, and though he knows he hasn’t really done much to make them that way he still feels accomplished; he and Djeeta have, somehow, made this ridiculous flying carnival a home for people who needed one. And though Lucifer’s just joined them, Gran hopes he stays - if only so Lucio and Sandalphon stop quibbling.

“Gran?” Lucio calls, and he jumps, laughing at himself as he hurries along after them.

It’s a beautiful day.

**IV &V.**

Vane and Lancelot are in the final stages of sharing a pot of tea in a little nook near the prow when the parade of archangels (and the captain) makes its way to their vicinity. Vane notices first - Lancelot is actually dozing off in the sun, leaning back against him - waves a little and presses a finger to his lips in the universal gesture for ‘quiet.’ Lucio perks up, itty bitty wings straining upward, nods and exaggeratedly tiptoes towards the benches on the far side, followed just as softly by Lucifer (who beams in response to Vane’s mouthed ‘hi!’), Sandalphon (who nods in acknowledgement), and Gran (who waves back) - and Lancelot mumbles something, and drops off to sleep.

Vane feels pretty accomplished for managing that; Lancelot’s always been a too-little, too-light kind of sleeper, and while that’s useful on the campaign trail it means he’s usually worn out when he’s not steeped in adrenaline. Or caffeine - Vane’s actually taken Sandalphon aside and asked him to make Lancelot’s day-to-day drinks a little weaker so he can actually sleep. (The primarch was a bit insulted at first, but when Lancelot sheepishly backed Vane’s request up, he softened to the idea a little. The results have been generally delicious; Sandalphon is to coffee what Vane is to food - that is to say, supremely gifted. Vane has exactly a good enough opinion of himself.)

He watches as the little group sets up on the other bench, as Sandalphon leans against Lucifer (and is promptly hidden from view by a sweep of dawnbreak plumage) and the smell of coffee wafts past and - Lancelot’s nose _twitches_ as he blinks one eye open. Vane would despair, but the image, the little rabbity nose-twitch and the sleepy curiosity in his eyes just makes him want to kiss the dummy all over his exhausted face. “‘Zzat coffee?”

“No, just Sandalphon,” Vane lowers his voice, ducks to peck Lancelot on the end of the nose. “Go back to sleep, Lancey.”

Lancelot’s eyelids droop - then he shoves himself into a sitting position with a grunt. “Sandalphon?” Shakes his head, looks around. “Where?”

Vane groans, sets the teapot and cups aside, reaches out to gather Lancelot into a hug. “Lancey -”

“Vane, I need to talk to him.” It’s the I Am The Captain voice Lancelot’s so good at, and Vane shivers because, well, _oh my_. “Where?”

Vane mutely indicates the little band on the other side of the ship, has to catch Lancelot as he slides off their bench, pulling the sleepy knight nearly back into his lap. Lancelot chuckles despite himself, gives him a little nudge. “Let me go, you.”  
“Nah, Lancey,” and Vane grins, slides to his feet and scoops Lancelot up, tucking him under one arm like a sack of potatoes, “if you can’t walk -”   
“Put me down!” Lancelot’s laughing in earnest now, flailing in his grip - not hard, but demonstratively. “Put me down this instant!”

“But you can’t walk, Lancey, I’m just doing my duty as your vice-captain and providing my assistance.” Vane gives him a little squeeze, gets a little slap to his thigh for his trouble.

“This is undignified,” Lancelot grumbles, and - yes, he’s _pouting_ , “really, Vane, I’m -”

“- a very sleepy, grumpy Lancey who is going to have a nap after he’s bothered his fellow caffeine addict?” Vane beams down at him.

“I’m going to slap you,” Lancelot huffs, crossing his arms, “I’m going to slap you and then I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“Awww, Lancey.” Vane flips him around, snatching the smaller knight upward til he’s held securely to Vane’s chest, pouts into his face. “No cuddles?”

“Not if you don’t put me down _right this instant, Vice-Captain._ ”   
Vane, understanding that he’s hit a hard line, immediately sets Lancelot on his feet and steps back. “Sorry.”   
“Is everything alright?” Sandalphon’s voice is a trifle muffled by the wall of feathers he’s peering through, but audibly concerned. “Vane being an idiot again, Lancelot?”   
“Only a little bit.” Lancelot’s fond tone, as always, does ridiculous things to Vane’s insides. “It’s good to see you well, Sandalphon.” His gaze rises to Lucifer, who’s also looking back at the knights inquisitively now, and even unarmed and unarmored the welcoming salute he automatically snaps off is knife-edge sharp. “Lucifer, it’s fantastic to meet you -”

Even sleep-deprived, Lancelot realizes what he’s done and tenses - military etiquette in a civilian introduction? How absolutely tone deaf - but Lucifer imitates the salute in an absent sort of way, then lights up. “Oh, Feendrache?”

“Yeah!” Vane beams. “Lancey’s the captain of the Knights of the White Dragon, and I’m his vice-captain, Vane. You’re familiar?”

“Not with your order necessarily - I apologize, I was never the best at keeping up with individual kingdoms - but yes!” A shy little smile peeks over the sweep of white wings, dips back behind them as Lucifer looks down at the smaller archangel folded in his wings. “I recall the founding of the place - Sandalphon, I think I told you about it before you emerged from your cradle.”

“That was Feendrache?” Sandalphon turns to look up at Lucifer, one hand still resting on the wing he nudged down to look past. “You never mentioned a name. Although I suppose that, in retrospect, the mention of the sealing of a true dragon should’ve been a clue.”  
“You were... present for Feendrache’s founding?” Lancelot doesn’t quite _sputter_ , but it’s a near thing - Lucifer glances away from Sandalphon to nod a sheepish little nod.

“For a certain quantity of ‘present,’ yes. The queen asked for my blessing before she rode to subdue Fafnir.” His voice is soft, thoughtful. “I never heard what happened after that, but given that your nation remains, I presume she succeeded.”

Vane blinks down at Lancelot quizzically. “Huh. Hey, Lancey, doesn’t that mean you actually won that argument with Percy?”  
“Argument?”   
“Yeah, remember? That first night at the tavern after you became captain, you two got into it about how literal the histories were.” Vane grinned. “Percy said the, what was it, ‘blessen bi noble aunǧel’ bit was figurative and you two almost got in a fistfight.”

Lancelot goes red to the ears - Lucifer makes a stifled noise that might be a laugh or a cough, twists to face the knights, and pats the flustered captain on the shoulder. “Your commitment to historical accuracy is admirable.”

Vane bursts out laughing, slings his arms around Lucifer’s shoulders, between the top two sets of wings, and squeezes gently. “Welcome to the Grandcypher, Lucifer - you’re gonna fit in just fine.”

(Lucio, sitting next to Gran on the bench facing this adorable little drama, elbows the captain as a laughing Lancelot joins in hugging Lucifer [and, inevitably, Sandalphon] and gets swatted on the shoulder for nearly dumping hot chocolate in his lap.)

  
  


and one 

_Bodiless again, wrapped in and comprised of icy grey mist, he floats through the dim towards its sole point of light. He knows what it is, and he doesn’t much like it, but he doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter - true that he could simply remain in the grey, but while he may deserve to suffer alone -_

_Sandalphon doesn’t, and never did._

_It’s always strange to see the back of his own head - he scarcely ever looked at a mirror, even, usually raked a comb through his hair while doing paperwork if he bothered to do it at all - but it’s less painful to look at that than at Sandalphon’s face, bloody and tearstained. He’s memorized the litany of angry pleas his solace sobs past his final monologue, and he echoes them rather than his own words as Sandalphon’s shoulders slump beneath the heavy weight of the curse of the Supreme Primarch, devoured by endless light._

* * *

The moonlight peering in through the wall of windows is bright enough to blind when he startles silently awake, every muscle tensed and aching - but then a whisper of dark feathers blots it out, a hand on his shoulder encouraging him to roll over. He goes with the tiniest of whimpers, turns on his other side and gathers Sandalphon into his arms, whispers a shaky little, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”  
“I’m glad you did,” and Sandalphon’s voice is sleepy and warm as he snuggles in closer, folding his wing over Lucifer possessively, “so don’t you dare apologize for it.”

Lucifer doesn’t offer, and Sandalphon doesn’t ask - they don’t talk about their nightmares, not quite yet - but Lucifer doesn’t let go for the rest of the night.

They sleep straight through the dawn.


End file.
